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by CreateInsanity



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Anal Sex, Angst, Established Relationship, Happy Ending Added, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3725368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreateInsanity/pseuds/CreateInsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is asked to leave Alexandria. He spends his last night with Rick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Edited and Re-uploaded, please excuse any remaining errors.  
> For an explanation of why this and my other works were taken down and are now all re-uploaded please check out the 'End Notes' on 'Stress Relief' or 'Whisper on the Wind'.  
> Enjoy!

Deanna asks him to leave Alexandria in the morning.

She beckons him off the porch, brings him to the same room she interviewed them all in and tells him that he’s ‘just not going to work out.’ He couldn't say it surprised him, he’d learnt, practically from the day he knew what ‘wanting something’ was, that expectations led to absolutely fucking nowhere. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn't been stupid enough to think that so much time spent with so many good people, better people, might’ve rubbed off a bit, masked whatever it was in him that practically screamed _‘I’m a no good piece of shit’._

Daryl didn't want to leave. He didn't want to leave the group, his family. Ever since Merle died, they were all he had, and although he’d spent the majority of his life alone (and a lot of the times where he wasn't wishing that he was) he’s been around people for a long time. He’d had people to go back to, people that would at least notice his absence.

Daryl knows the mind frame associated with loneliness well, and he also knows how hard it is to remain there for long periods of time without wanting to shoot yourself in the head.

But Daryl doesn't want to say no, doesn't want to annoy the women who’s allowed his family this sense of safety, this hope.

“’kay, I get it.” He says, nodding his head slightly and chewing on his lip. “I – Can I have today to say goodbye?”

She nods, and he’s thankful for that at least. The only other thing he asks of her is that she not tell the group, his idea of goodbye probably isn't the same as hers.

“I’ll leave first thing.” It’s an afterthought, said after he’s already turned to leave and he thinks he’s placed the time for his own benefit, rather than hers. It’s always better to run to the inevitable, get it over with. The hurt doesn't ricochet as much, doesn't ache. It just stabs and stays and while it doesn't heal, it doesn't fester either.

He leaves the room, leaves the house and heads back to the porch. 

He has the small satisfaction of knowing that he isn't doing this for her.

He’s doing it for his family.

He’d do anything for his family.

Daryl camps out on the porch for most of the day and watches as everything unfolds around him. He sees his entire family, exploring, passing him by, chatting with the previous residents. Carl’s talking to a couple kids his age with Rick standing by, hugging Judith close and talking to Carol.

He wonders if this was what life was like before, for all these people, for his people, for the people who lived in these houses. He thinks it must have been, because they slot so easily back into this version of society, back into rules and regulations. Four walls and a roof.

For a little while, sat on the porch, still covered in the grime of the outside world, cleaning his crossbow while he still has the tools available to do a good job, Daryl’s sort of glad he’s leaving. 

He’d never really mentioned it, never really thought about it too much, but he’s starting to realize that his life before was so much more like the outside world now. About running and hiding and being quiet and trying not to fuck up and wondering who to trust.

And he realizes that his family is shifting back to normalcy, and he’s getting left behind.

Daryl’s been left behind a lot in his life.

So he’s glad he doesn't have to see it happen this time.

There’s a party that night, in the ‘new arrivals honor’.

Daryl doesn't go, and no one really comments. He tells himself it’s because they know he’s uncomfortable, that he hasn't adjusted, that he needs time, but there’s still a part of him that watches everyone go with the sense that he’s already lost them all, that they know he’s never gonna work it out, never gonna fit.

He doesn't really think he would've been welcomed anyway.

It’s quiet for a long time, and while he enjoys the silence and the fact that everyone’s having fun, he knows he only has tonight left and he wishes he could’ve spent it with them. 

At least he can slip out in the morning, quiet, unnoticed, and no one will even know he’s gone until sometime tomorrow and by that time they’ll realize there’s no point looking.

But he can’t go yet. Doesn't want to go yet.

He hasn't had the chance to say goodbye.

Rick and Judith get back at some time around midnight.

“Where’s Carl?” Daryl asks, leaning forward from his spot against the window frame. Rick doesn't startle, because of course he knew Daryl was there.

“Sleepover, with Jessie’ son.” Rick shifts slightly, cradling Judith’s lolling head against his shoulder and motioning for Daryl to follow him into the house. 

“That a good thing?” Daryl doesn't mean it in a harsh way, knows Rick will see that as well, he’s just never really understood the classics of childhood, never understood how Rick could trust other kids around his own, both before and after the apocalypse. Trust has never been easy for Daryl.

“Yeah it is.” Rick says, giving Daryl a look that’s so fond it breaks his damn heart. “I just never thought he’d get the chance to do things like that again, you know?”

Daryl nods, smiling slightly as Judith whines, burying her head into the hollow of Rick’s neck and looking like she want to curl up like a cat against the warmth.

“Sometimes I think she misses being small enough to cradle.” Rick looks up at him, eyes shining with a brightness Daryl hasn't had the pleasure of seeing since the prison fell and walks towards him, he has to lean forwards a little, to avoid crushing Judith between the two of them and it throws the angle off ever so slightly, but Rick’s lips are warm as they touch his own, and the faint taste of alcohol on Rick’s breath makes Daryl groan.

Rick pulls back, licking his lips and hoisting Judith further onto his hip as she starts to fuss.

“C’mon.” He says, grabbing Daryl by his bicep and nudging him towards the stairs. “We better put Her Highness down before she starts actually crying, we have neighbors now, we’ll have to try being considerate.”

Daryl huffs, but moves towards the stairs with Rick. “Her highness? That’s a stupid nickname.”

“And Lil’ Asskicker is any better?” Daryl can’t see Rick’s face, but he can hear the smirk in his voice.

They reach the top of the stairs, Daryl heading down the corridor to Judith’s crib, which upon his insistence, had been placed in Carl’s room. Rick had initially looked like he wanted to object to that, but a pleading look from Carl had stolen any words of protest from his lips. Daryl opens the door to allow Rick through, nodding his head at Judith while they pass. “She ain’t no royal, she’s a survivor.” 

“She’s a baby.”

“She’s a _Grimes._ ”

Rick rises from where he had bent over to deposit Judith into her crib, brushing a lock of short hair off of his daughter’s forehead and watching her chest rise and fall in the peaceful tranquility of sleep. It was a testament to how far they’d come, the things they’d done, that he could stand and watch his daughter breathe, watch her continue to live in the most basic sense.

“You say that like it’s so loaded.” Rick says, glancing up at Daryl, watching as he leans back against the frame of the door and crosses muscled arms over his chest. “Like she’d be anything less if she was a Dixon, like I don’t believe she basically is.”

Daryl snorts, dropping his gaze to the floor and shaking his head, dirty pieces of hair falling into his face and as much as Rick loves Daryl hair he hates how easily it can be used as a barrier. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Daryl-”

“No, don’t you dare.” Daryl shakes his head again, makes eye contact and his eyes burn with a hatred so fiercely introverted it makes Rick want to cry. “That girlie is everything good, you and Carl and you’re family are _everything_ good, and I love her and you and Carl so much, but don’t you bring the likes of me into it, because we wreck everything.”

Rick opens his mouth to protest but closes it again when Daryl shakes his head, taking in a deep breath that looks heartbreakingly painful despite how steady it remains.

“Rick, I hated growing up with that name following me around like a damn curse. And I know it don’t matter anymore but I still don’t want your baby walking around with that. None of us Dixons, not a single one, could ever be worth half as much as you’re daughter.” 

Rick stands for a long time, only nodding his head once, be it in understanding or acceptance of whatever, before he’s walking over to Daryl and placing a hand on his cheek.

“You haven’t showered yet.” He says, and if there’s one thing Daryl has loved about Rick it’s the lack of theatrics, the ability to know when to leave something well alone.

“What are you trying to say?” Daryl says, raising an eyebrow and slipping perfectly into the position of normality Rick has offered him.

“I’m saying we should go shower.”

“We?”

“We.” Rick nudges Daryl, pushing him out of the door and closing it quietly behind him, considerate, even though they both know that Judith could sleep through more noise than the two of them could ever possibly make.

Taking Daryl’s wrist in hand, Rick leads him to the en-suite bathroom attached to his room, pulling Daryl against him as he shuts the door behind them. 

“Been a long time since we took a shower together.” Daryl says, allowing Rick to push his vest off of his shoulders, not even minding that it crumples to the floor in a heap.

Rick stops, his hands pausing in their task of undoing Daryl’s pants. “It’s been a long time since we've done _anything_ together.” 

He undoes the button of Daryl’s jeans and pulls down his zipper, leaving them to rest precariously on narrow hips as he fists a hand in Daryl’s hair and forces their lips together. Daryl moans, twisting his own hands into Rick’s shirt, urging him to move closer and press their bodies together. Rick moves his spare hand down Daryl’s body, pausing to undo each individual button of Daryl’s shirt before running his fingers down the planes of his chest, trailing a solitary finger down to his waistband before pulling his pants down completely and wrapping a hand around his cock.

Daryl pants, tilting his head back to lean against the wall, heavy breathing turning into full out groans as Rick shifts forward to mouth at his neck, rough strokes over his cock inter spaced with bites to his flesh, slowing movements echoed with soothing kisses.

“What happened to the shower?” Daryl asks, his voice more breathy then he’d ever admit to it being.

“I got distracted.” It’s practically a growl, and Daryl can feel the vibration of it against his collarbone.

“Not distracted enough, if you still got all them damn clothes on.”

Rick laughs against Daryl’s right peck and the unintentional brush of teeth over his nipple makes Daryl shudder.

Daryl shrugs off his shirt and steps out of his jeans as Rick turns the shower on. He watches, in equal parts excitement and dismay as Rick strips off his own clothes, stepping under the shower head and groaning at the feel of hot water over stiff muscles. Excitement, because he loves Rick, and it’s been such a long time since they've been together like this, and dismay, because he suddenly remembers that this is the last time this’ll ever happen again. The last time he’ll see Rick so relaxed and happy and content. The last time he’ll see Rick at all.

Daryl feels tears welling in his eyes and hates himself for the show of weakness. He walks forward, wraps his arms around Rick’s waist, buries his head into the gap between his shoulder blades and just tries not to think, tries to hide for a little while so that Rick won’t see how much of a pussy he’s being.

He lets loose a long drawn out breath, the same breath he’d struggled with in Judith’s room, and if the feeling of tears landing on Rick’s back didn't clue him into Daryl’s pain then that certainly did. It was a breath that Rick had struggled for a long time to place, mainly because it didn't sound like the typical noises people make when they’re sad. But eventually, Rick had realized that it was the startling calmness of Daryl’s emotions not being able to accurately deal with his turmoil that displayed the highest level of pain.

“What’s wrong, Darlin’.” 

Daryl shakes his head against Rick’s back, and Rick knows from experience that pushing Daryl to talk does nothing but push the man himself away, so he rests his arms over the ones Daryl had looped around his waist, turning around only when Daryl has let go and stepped back.

He leans to the side, picking up a half empty bottle of shampoo and squirting some into his own hand. He places his clean hand under Daryl chin, lifting his face up and meeting his eyes, hoping that Daryl can see all the love in the world is being aimed at him. The hand at Daryl’s chin drifts along his cheek, skirting across his temple and pushing his fringe back and Rick moves his other hand to mix the shampoo into the long, dirt matted hair.

When the shampoo suds look like they hold more of the dirt then Daryl’s hair does, Rick turns them around and moves Daryl back under the spray, keeping a hold of his head and brushing the streams of water through it, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Daryl’s lips and not paying one iota of attention to the soap suds that sink into his mouth from the contact.

It’s a whisper soft kiss, one filled with all the love Rick can fit into one movement and not influenced by any lust, or urgency, or need. It’s one of Daryl’s favorites, and Rick knows it’s partly because Daryl still can’t understand that Rick doesn't need a single thing from Daryl to feel the love that he does for him.

“Conditioner or no conditioner?” Rick asks, a meaningless question following a meaningful action, because Daryl rarely finds any comfort in words, no matter how kindly they are spoken.

“I ain’t no girl.” Daryl says, his voice low and content, but his eyes searching Rick’s face for something that Rick can’t even begin to understand. 

“I’ll take that as a no, Darlin’” Rick says, watching Daryl’s lips twist in something that could be a smile as easily as it could be a grimace. 

He leans forward and Rick allows Daryl to kiss him while he reaches for the soap, chuckling at Daryl’s impatient frown as he’s pushed back, glowering at the soap suds Rick plasters over his body.

Daryl tries to help as much as he can, loving the attention but knowing that he hasn't got long left, that he needs at least an hour to just study Rick, because Rick’s a damn masterpiece if Daryl ever saw one and he wants to remember him forever.

Rick pushes him under the water again, and Daryl grabs Rick by the back of his neck and pulls their lips together, inhaling Rick’s groan like he needs it to breathe. 

“Not here.” Rick whispers against his mouth, encircling an arm around Daryl’s waist and flattening his hand over the small of his back, grinding their cocks together despite his words. “We have a bed, we’re gonna use it.”

Daryl groans, fumbling behind him for the tap and turning off the shower, feeling Rick’s nails dig into his shoulders as he pulls him from it and walks him towards the bedroom door, backing him up until they reach the bed and pushing him down onto it.

Rick’s mouth latches onto his hipbone, sucking a deep mark into the sensitive skin. Daryl twists his fingers into Rick’s curls, thrusting his hips up and moaning as he feels Rick’s warm breath fan over the head of his cock. Daryl fists his other hands into the sheets, moving the one tangled in Rick’s hair to his mouth, trying to stifle the noises that Rick drags from him as he laps at the bead of pre-cum gathering at the tip, looking up at Daryl as he licks a long line up the length of Daryl’s cock before sliding the head into his mouth and sucking.

Daryl’s moan is stifled as he bites into the back of his wrist, thrusting his hips to chase the sensation as Rick pulls away.

Rick reaches up, smacking Daryl’s hand away from his mouth in a way that isn't rough, but leaves no room for argument.

“Stop it, I want to hear you.” Rick growls, feeling the answering vibration of Daryl’s throaty moan through his rib cage. He moves his hand back down Daryl’s body, bypassing his cock and instead circling a finger around Daryl’s hole.

“We don’t have any lube.” Rick says, trying to coax the muscle into relaxing with the tip of his index finger.

“I don’t care.” 

“Well I do.” Rick says, and the fact that he looks so truthful makes Daryl heart skip in his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Daryl’s about to say something when Rick slaps him gently on the side of his thigh. “Turn over, I wanna try something.”

Daryl does as Rick asks, spreading his legs as far as he’s able and leaning his weight down onto his forearms. He startles when Rick spreads his ass cheeks apart, feeling Rick’s warm breath against him and uncertain what to do in response to the feeling.

“Rick-” It’s high, needy and tapers off into a startled whine as Rick licks into him, pulling off with kisses and nips only to dive back in again with long, searching laps that make Daryl keen.

“Rick, please, please.” Daryl’s almost embarrassed at how needy his voice sounds, how hard his cock is as he drips pre-cum onto the sheets, how close to the edge Rick has gotten him without touching his cock. “I need to come, please.”

Rick pulls off, breathes against him as he pushes two fingers into his hole, pulling them apart and lapping between them.

“Can you come like this?” He asks, moving his finger deeper, curling it and searching until Daryl whines, thrusting his cock into the air below him and pushing back on Rick’s fingers. Rick keeps pressing, keeps licking and Daryl can feel his orgasm coming at him like a damn speed train.

“Come on Darlin, come for me.”

One more press to his prostate and Daryl’s gone, rolling his hips back onto Rick’s fingers as a long whine rips itself free from his lips. Rick gently pulls his fingers free from Daryl’s body, turning him onto his back before he can collapse and kissing Daryl with everything he has.

Daryl pants, moving an arm forward and wrapping his hand around Rick’s cock, feeling Rick moan against his lips as he spreads his legs, rubbing the head against his hole and sinking down onto it ever so slightly.

Rick jerks, pushing further in and Daryl gasps, knowing he’s oversensitive, knowing he won’t get it up again but wanting Rick, wanting to feel Rick, to remember Rick in every single way he can.

The long slide of Rick’s cock makes Daryl pant, so he wraps his legs over Rick’s thighs, twists his arms across his back and clings, let’s Rick chase his own release. 

Daryl’s not religious and if he was this might feel like sin, but with Rick it’s only ever felt like worship.

He buries his head into the joint between Rick’s neck and shoulder, hearing every hitch in Rick’s breath as he mouths along Daryl’s ear. He feels tears build up in his eyes again as he feels Rick jerk, hears him moan as he grinds into Daryl, riding out his release. His tears spill onto Rick’s skin, his sob smothered by Rick’s collarbone and he shouldn't be so sad but he doesn't want this to be over. Doesn't want to leave.

He wants to stay with Rick forever, wants to have this forever, wants the word family to be redefined in meaning, to think safety instead of pain. But he’s fucked up and he’s too different, and he supposes he should be glad that Deanna can see he’s not good enough for Alexandria, for Rick and Carl and Judith because he doesn't think he could’ve ever admitted it to himself.

_‘Ain't nothing sadder than an outdoor cat thinks he’s an indoor cat.’_

He feels Rick pull out, feels him cup his face in strong hands and lean down to kiss the tears off of his cheeks.

Rick rests his forehead against Daryl’s, looking into his eyes like they hold the answers to the universe and every unresolved issue it holds. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” He breathes the words against Daryl’s lips like they're splintering glass, like any sudden volume would smash them to pieces and Daryl would cherish Rick’s titanium coated fragility more than his own life for the rest of time if he was able.

But he can’t, so he leans up and brushes his lips against Rick’s, an echo of the kiss Rick had given him in the shower. He know it doesn't compare, because he could give Rick everything he has, and it still wouldn't live up to how much Rick has given him.

He shakes his head one final time, smiles at Rick’s answering nod and lets Rick pull him into his chest, curls his head under Rick’s chin and breathes all the endearments he can think of into Rick’s skin.

He doesn't know whether Rick hears them, doesn't know exactly when Rick drifts off, but he said them for the first and the last time and it makes him feel better.

Daryl watches Rick’s face till he can see the red light of day creeping into the horizon. He studies every line, every hair, every scar and finds he can’t even begin to categorize them in any order of importance because every aspect of Rick Grimes is the most important thing in the world.

Working his way out of Rick’s arms, he heads into the bathroom, picking up his discarded clothing and pulling them on.

He doesn't kiss Rick goodbye, but he knows this is the end, knows this isn't the only love he’s going to lose.

He leaves the bedroom and walks to Judith’s crib first, because she’s his Lil’Asskicker and he’s gonna miss her something fierce.

She’s awake when he walks in, gurgling quietly and chewing on a corner of her blanket, looking up at him like he’s the whole world and Daryl wishes he could live up to that.

But she’s here, she’s safe, she’s gonna stay with her Daddy where she belongs, enjoying life while there are still things in it to enjoy. Her toys are still here, few and far between but clean in a way they hadn't been before and set in a little row on the windowsill.

He reaches forward and grabs one, a little doll.

She’d had one like it at the prison, Daryl had found it himself, hunted for days because Beth had mentioned how sad it was for a baby to have no toys and God knows Daryl could relate.

That was gone, but she had a new one, and there was something comforting in seeing it replaced.

He places the toy into her crib, watching her grab it with eager fingers and smiling as she replaces her mauled blanket with the edge of the dolls dress. He reaches to the back of his neck, grabbing a thin leather cord that has rested there for what feels like forever and pulling the necklace over his head. He’d made it himself, at the prison, in one of the few and far between periods where everything was calm, when there was downtime, when they could relax.

It was nothing special. A leather cord with a metal arrowhead attached, simplistic, rugged, not a piece of jewelry really fitting for a baby.

But he thought that she might like it when she’s older, and he can say that now, ‘when she’s older’ because like hell her Daddy was ever gonna let another sanctuary be stolen from him. 

_Hell hath no fury like Rick Grimes._

He hangs the necklace over the edge of her crib, making sure that she can’t grab it, not wanting her to choke. He likes the thought of leaving something as well, something that she could remember him by, maybe, if Rick thought to tell her about him. He wouldn't mind if he didn't, but if he did, she’d know that he didn't just abandon her. That he cared about her, would remember her. 

Daryl knows what it feels like to be forgotten.

And it’s the worst feeling in the world.

He turns from Judith and walks forward to Carl’s bed.

Carl’s bed, in Carl and Judith’s room, in the Grimes Family House. Ain't that something? Kid got more than just a roof, that’s for sure, and he deserved every bit of it.

Daryl hadn't had the best experience with big brothers, but he knew that Carl was gonna be a good one, knew that he’d protect Judith with his own life.

Kid had grown on Daryl, that was damn sure. Gone was the annoying little kid, following behind his mother and her hot shot boyfriend, timid and earnest in equal, frustrating amounts. He’d grown up fast, and Daryl might’ve pitied the kid if he was one of the residents of this place, but he was a Dixon and ‘childhood’ wasn't even in the Dixon dictionary and Daryl knew for a fact that growing up fast was the best thing you could do in any life if you wanted to survive.

Carl was going to survive.

Hell, kid was a Grimes, families the toughest sons of bitches he ever met.

Daryl grew up quick too, he was built to survive.

He shrugged out of his leather vest and turned it, setting it down wing side up.

It’d be too big for a while, but Carl was getting taller, filling out, started developing a good set of shoulders and Daryl knew it would fit the kid just fine.

He was about to walk back down the stairs when he decides to head back to Rick’s room one more time, but when he gets to the door, he can’t bring himself to walk through it, knows that if he sees Rick in any half decent light of day he won’t be able to leave.

Daryl forces himself away from the door, turning back around, walking down the stairs and only allowing himself to stop one he reaches the table, gently removing his knife from his holster and placing it down at Rick’s place mat.

_‘I’ll do it, mines sharper, how many kills you skin and gut in your lifetime anyway?’_

Daryl takes a deep breath, shoulders his crossbow and heads over to the front door. His hand freezes on the handle, and for a second he doesn't think he’s going to be able to leave, doesn't think he can bear to walk out this door right now and never see his family again, never kiss Rick again, never ruffle Carl’s hair and teach the kid to shoot a crossbow, never put Judith down and feed her like she’s his own.

But he knows he can’t be that selfish, knows that everyone’s gonna suffer if he doesn't leave.

All Daryl ever was to Merle, to his Dad, was a burden.

He can’t bear the thought of wrecking this for his family, for being the reason Rick can’t smile, the reason Carl can’t have sleepovers, the reason Judith can’t stay _alive._

So he opens the door, shuts it as quietly as he possibly can behind him and walks to the gate, trying to smile into the orange light of the morning and not looking back, because if he looks back he really doesn't think he’s gonna be able to leave.

Deanna’s waiting when he makes it to the gate, but she’s the only one and he’s sort of grateful for that.

“I’m sorry.” Deanna starts, and Daryl doesn't really want to hear it, but if it keeps her happy, keeps his family safe, he’ll listen to it anyway. “Some people just don’t work out.”

“It’s okay.” Daryl says and he doesn't smile at her because he doesn't think he can, but he nods in her direction and walks out of the gate with nothing but his crossbow and the clothes he’s wearing. He’s made do with less in the past, and he knows he was okay then, but it’s been a long time since he was on his own and he feels like several pieces of him are being left behind.

He stands for a minute, listens to the sound of Deanna’s footsteps fading, and when he can’t hear them anymore, he walks.

He walks and he doesn't look back.

In Alexandria, Rick wakes up to the sun shining through his window and an empty bed, he smiles slightly regardless, rolling himself over and nuzzling Daryl’s pillow, inhaling his scent before shifting out of bed and pulling on some clothes.

He passes Carl on his way down the stairs, and his son’s smiling and happy and about to go wake his baby sister and everything feels right in the world for the first time in forever.

Rick makes it downstairs and heads for the coffee he knows Deanna left in the cupboards, relishing in the simple task of making coffee again, of being able to drink it again and he wonders if Daryl might want any, if he likes coffee-

“Dad!”

He turns around, because Carl’s voice has a note of panic in it that he hasn't heard since they all got here and that he’d hoped he’d never have to hear again.

Carl’s coming down the stairs, his sister cradled on one hip and two items held in his other hand.

“Why was Daryl’s vest on my bed?” 

“What?” Rick says, because he’s still a bit panicked and he can’t really think through what Carl’s implying, why he looks so worried.

“His jacket was laid out on my bed, and his necklace was on Judy’s crib.”

Rick looks at the jacket and the necklace that Carl’s offering to him for a long time, finally reaching forward a tentative hand and taking them both off of him. He’s been holding them for a minute before he realizes that he hasn't seen Daryl all morning, that he doesn't know where Daryl is and when his feet move him automatically to the door, when he’s struck with the sudden need to know, his eyes fall on the knife left on the table. 

It’s a couple of minutes later, when Rick’s running round town with Carl, asking for Daryl, shouting for Daryl and after the group comes out and starts doing the same, that Deanna walks over to him and tells him that Daryl’s gone.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Rick asks, his voice barely audible over the sound of his breathing.

“He said he was going to tell you.” Deanna says, like that answers Rick’s question. “I asked him to leave.”

The group starts shouting, starts asking why, starts sorting out search groups.

Rick just stands for a minute, because Daryl’s _gone_ and that shouldn't feel like the end of the world when the world's already ended.

He looks for Daryl for two weeks with the group, then for three more weeks on his own.

And if Rick continues to look at Walkers faces more than he looks for what they need on runs, no one says anything.

Just outside of Washington Daryl finds a car, and when that one gives out he finds another one. It takes him a little while to figure out that rather than looking for gas, it’s easier to look for a new car altogether when one runs empty. It’s hard going, and there’s no opportunity for more than the occasional squirrel and some dirty water.

It takes him 10 days to get back to Georgia.

He doesn't actually realize that’s where he’s going until he gets there and for a while he just sits in the car and sobs into the steering wheel because it feels like there’s a rope pulling him back towards Washington and every mile he puts between himself and his family hurts.

He heads to the prison, because it feels right, because it feels like the closest thing to home he has anymore.

It’s surprisingly empty, filled with only a scattering of walkers left behind from the mass that had swarmed there when it fell. Daryl deals with them, it’s methodical, routine, uncaring.

He sees three crosses as the last one crumples before him.

It was never discussed, but Daryl had relegated the one originally used for Carol to Merle. She hadn't needed it once they’d found her and he hadn't wanted to actually ask in case the group said no.

“Sorry I ain't been by in a while, bro.”

Daryl drops his knife to the ground, falling to knees in front of the cross.

“I’m tired Merle.” It sounds pathetic, and Daryl thinks that’s a pretty good word to describe himself at the moment, but he hasn't found anything to drink in days and he can’t remember the last time he ate something that wasn't squirrel. Can’t remember the last time his even ate that.

Daryl lets his legs give way, turning over to be on his back before his stomach hits the weeds. He lies there for a while, watching sparse clouds travel in lazy lines across the sky. It’s quiet and although Daryl can hear the steady grown of Walkers in the distance he can’t be sure whether they’re coming or going, can’t be sure whether he has enough energy to deal with them if they show up.

He thinks of Alexandria, of laughing people who haven’t ever understood what it’s like to look people in the eyes and know that you could never compare to them, know that they’re the stars collided into one being and you’re the barren nothingness in-between. 

Thinks of his family fitting right in, slotting into that life like it was normal, like they belonged. Thinks of Rick, beautiful Rick who was so kind and so nice and never looked at Daryl like he was a piece of nothing even though Daryl knew that must’ve been all he ever saw.

“I wanna go home.”

Merle would be pissed at Daryl right now, tears streaming down his face like a damn pussy and whining like a little bitch.

But Daryl’s so tired. Its bone deep, digs into his marrow and settles, washes over his nervous system like a blanket, pillows his head in dreams and dazes. 

He lets his eyes close, leaning his head back against the cross at his head.

It’s the best sleep he can remember having. Out in the open, underneath a sky that’s just turning pink as the sun sets behind him, with the ghosts of his family surrounding him, encompassing him in warmth, the ripples of belonging that wash over him like the rocking of waves. Daryl wonders if he’s floating, but thinks he’s probably drowning. 

He doesn't dream, but he does remember, remembers smiling faces and happy laughs and the Woodbury people’s welcomes that had seemed so damn unwelcoming at the time. Remembers Rick’s face, every detail of every aspect of every part of Rick’s wonderful, gorgeous face.

Somewhere, in his unconscious state, Daryl’s glad he came back.

And if he doesn't wake up its okay, because it’s ruined and derelict and lonely, but it almost feels like home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited and it feels so good!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Happy Ending!
> 
> Note that if you liked the original ending you in no way have to read this one! This is just a sequel for those who wanted a reunion.
> 
> Thank you krystal214 for your lovely ideas that I have incorporated into this, and motivated me to write it. :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Alexandria went down in flames.

Rick hadn't been surprised, hadn't particularly cared. He got his family out, made sure they were as safe and whole as anyone could remain at this point, and left the rest to their naivety.

They made it about half a mile out before Rick allowed himself to look back.

The smoke billowed, cramping his lungs with the memory of it and the screams echoed in his head as much as they had in his ears. His skin blistered with the feeling of flames against it, and his veins felt fever hot, blood pumping through them and boiling its way into his heart.

He was reminded of the campfire at the quarry, the ash and the final few burning embers all that had remained of its warmth. He considered the crippling heat of burning air left behind in the destruction of the CDC. The crumbling, flame encapsulated fragility of a barn, the light of it spreading through the farm, flickering shadows onto the house and promising danger just as much as the Walkers that swarmed the fields. He could remember a watchtower burning against the sky, torn away in a mindless act of revenge, set alight for little more than an inability to even consider co-existing anymore. 

The unpredictability of fire so mimicked that of this world’s inhabitants, what they had become.

Rick supposed it was routine now, gospel in a twisted sense, that every sanctuary they know be reduced to cinders and ash. Their hard work, dedication, hope fading away, blown like smoke caught on the breeze of perpetual destruction that followed them and lingered in their lungs like fumes. It chocked and suffocated so slowly, so steadily, that in the end all that was left was the bitter and unavoidable feeling of impending nothingness.

A small part of him thought of a boy, legs too small to keep up with the bigger boys’ bikes, stomach too empty to ever consider keeping a consistent speed for too long. Blue eyes that reflected red flames like a contradiction. Ear drums so used to shouts that the encompassing sounds of panic barely reverberated round his skull.

_‘Stop’_ , Rick thinks to himself. Listens not because he wants to but because his throat is constricting its own air and his eyes are watering.

He turns away, carries on walking.

They walk for a long time.

Rick has a rough plan of where he’s going, knows that staying in Washington, in territory that they don’t know, isn't a good idea.

Surviving is hard enough even _when_ you have the advantage.

Heading back to Georgia is the only thing he can think of and in the end it’s Glenn who thinks to check on what’s left of the prison, what they can salvage. It boosts the group’s spirits, something to head to, a place that's relatively known. Routine is something that seems so out of reach in this world, but the appeal of it remains evident.

Rick can’t get past the thought that it won’t be the same. That the prison walls won’t look like home without a crossbow propped against them, that his cell will be painstakingly cold without sun kissed skin to warm his own. He glances back at the group, sees Maggie’s stone cold expression and Sasha’s white-knuckled grip on her rifle and knows he’s not the only one who sees no salvation in this situation.

He turns away, takes a deep breath and keeps walking, the echoing groans of Walkers ringing in his ears like silence.

It hurts to think about moving on, both because the travel seems as never-ending as the struggle to stay alive and because Daryl won’t know where he is. He’d spent so long at Alexandria, hoping, praying that he’d wake up, walk down to the gate and see him on the other side. Now, if Daryl’s even alive (and the thought of him being anything but refuses to establish itself in Rick’s mind) they’re even more lost from each other. Not only does he not know where Daryl is, but Daryl has no idea where he is.

_‘What if he goes back, and you’re not there?’_

The chances of him seeing Daryl again had already been minuscule when Alexandria was attacked, now it seems microscopic.

Never seeing Daryl again. The thought hurts as much as it did when he first realized it, still reverberates around his head, ringing like a lie but encapsulated with an undeniable possibility of truth. 

It’s as they’re encroaching on familiar forests, that they come across a congregation of cars, centered round the crippled remains of several others, some debris still scattered along the road in evidence of a crash, others remaining whole but abandoned at either edge of the collision. 

“Carl, Tara.” Rick says, moving towards Carl as he says it and lifting Judith from his arms, tucking a hand around the back of her head and pulling her into his chest. “Take a side each, stay diligent, you see something you can’t handle, you signal straight away.”

The words are slow, precise, Rick’s face as grim as it’s ever been and reflected on everyone else’s. 

“Everyone else search for what you can.” He says, watching Carl and Tara take up watch at either end of the wreck and angling his head away from Judith’s sensitive ears, wanting his daughter to hold onto some sense of fragility for as long as she can. “Nothing’s gonna be easily found anymore.”

The group nods, dispersing to different cars, set up in already established pairs, well versed in the danger of leaving your back uncovered, of letting your guard down.

Rosita pairs with Eugene as easily as Abraham pairs with Gabriel, both of them evening out the difference in experience, keeping everyone safe the only way they can. All of them head to the cars at the tree line. People that had become stuck trying to dodge the wreckage. From the carnage in the front seats and the corpses strewn out across the road, at least some of them never dodged it at all. 

Michonne, Carol and Sasha head to one of the two cars left, opening doors and searching through back seats in their attempt to find anything worth using.

Rick stands watch with Judith, keeping an eye on everyone here rather than anyone approaching, safe in the knowledge that right now, that particular threat is being monitored by Carl and Tara. It’s a small fact of life that there needs to be a difference now, that they need to understand the dark chasm between protection and _defense._

Glenn and Maggie take the last car, stopped a decent distance away from the wreckage and facing towards Georgia.

They circle around it first, Glenn cautiously looking around the interior of the car before moving to the open driver’s door and beginning to rummage beneath the seats. Maggie watches him for a minute, before walking round to open the boot, tentative after what had happened last time she’d decided to check one. 

When no blonde haired girl met her sites and twisted a knife into a wound that hadn't yet contemplated healing, her breath comes a lot easier, the suffocating panic crackling at the edge of her lungs remaining tamed for now, allowing her to search in peace.

The disappointment of finding nothing is palpable as she makes her way back to Glenn’s side, but they’re numbed to it by now anyway, and the feeling barely graces her mind before she forces it away.

“They traveled a long way.” Maggie says, motioning to the Delaware license plate precariously hanging to the front of the car with her boot.

“Haven’t we all.” Glenn mumbles, uncharacteristically cryptic in the face of his exhaustion.

“Couple a bullets left on the back seat.” Glenn says, reaching through to grab them. “Whoever left this here must’ve been in a hurry.”

“Why would they chuck them in the back seat anyway?” Maggie asks, keeping Glenn steady with a firm hand against his back.

“I don’t know.” Glenn grunts, stretching forward between the front seats to reach the last bullet, which had fallen onto the floor in his struggle to grab the others. “People are difficult to understand nowadays.” 

“Could’ve slept there I suppose.” The conversation is irrelevant, both of them conscious enough to know that it doesn't matter why the bullets were left. Whoever left them might’ve needed them, might be dead right now because they didn't have them. The facts are inconsequential, all that matters is that they've found something and that those bullets are sure to fit in one of their revolvers, that it will keep _them_ alive.

Glenn hums in response, finally managing to stretch enough to grab the final bullet and pulling himself back through the front seats. He stops before he’s fully out of the car, his hand brushing over something that isn't exactly soft, but has the texture of something that might’ve been, once upon a time.

He grips it, pulling it free from where it’s caught on the edge of the seat and moves with it into the light, unable to see it clearly in the dust filtered sunbeams that permeate the inside of the car.

Glenn nearly drops the damn bullets he has clasped in his other hand, because it doesn't mean much and he knows better than to get his hopes up, but shit, is the red rag that he suddenly grips in his hand familiar. Hell, it means all of nothing but it feels like salvation. The feeling of optimism is, by now, almost painfully unfamiliar and Glenn knows it’s also extremely unreliable, but that doesn't stop his head timidly labeling what he’s feeling as hope.

“Is that…” Maggie says, looking down at the cloth in Glenn’s hand and he can tell her mind has jumped to the exact same thought, has grasped onto something that wouldn't have even meant anything substantial before the world went to shit and suffocated it into hope. She starts looking round for Rick as she contemplates what she’s seeing, what she’s feeling. “We have to tell Ri-”

“No” Glenn says, grabbing at her wrist and stopping her in her tracks. “We don’t tell him anything.”

“But it’s Daryl’s!” Maggie looks so painfully fragile in her hope, and it is only the fact that Rick is already so fragile, that something like this could shatter him so completely, that makes him argue with her, makes her see. He knows that Rick wouldn't be able to right now, wouldn't be able to see past anything but the expectation of it all, the possibility of something impossible.

“But what if it isn't?” Maggie looks like she’s about to argue, but Glenn shakes his head, resignation making the movement heavy. “Or what if it is, and this is all that’s left?”

He can see what Maggie’s thinking, both because he knows her and because he’s seen the dull, resonating look of grief reflected in her eyes too much lately. Seen it in everyone. God, how much must they have lost, how resigned are they in the knowledge that the still have things they’re going to lose, that things like this, a sign like this, can hold no hope, only the possibility of more grief.

“We don’t tell him?” Maggie whispers, looking up at him with eyes he’s sure would be damp if the cloying hold of dehydration wasn't creeping towards them with such finality.

“We don’t tell him.” He says, watches Maggie’s head drop, lifting a hand to nudge it up again in response and waiting until he has eye contact. “But we keep an eye out for him.”

Maggie smiles. “Are you talking about Rick or Daryl?”

“Both of them.” Glenn says, matching her tired smile with one of his own. “We keep an eye out for both of them.”

Glenn smiles, giving her a gentle push on the shoulder. Maggie turns around and Glenn pretends he didn't see the new lines of worry that had etched their way onto her forehead, ageing her in a way that isn't beautiful (because her pain never is and never will be) but rectifiable in how temporary it is. He stuffs the bullets and the rag into her bag, zipping it up and walking with her back to the group, who have sat down around Rick, searching through scattered items of varying importance and rationing out the last of their water.

Glenn and Maggie sit down with them, grateful for the small reprieve of constant walking. They watch Rick pull a map out from his own bag, opening it up and pointing out two separate positions.

“We have two choices.” He says, shifting down to his knees and cradling Judith in his lap, reaching forward to rest a finger over the first point. “We need food, which means we need somewhere stable enough to set up some traps overnight.” 

Rick looks up, his eyes meeting everyone’s individually and the deadness of them almost prompts Glenn to tell Rick about the rag, if only to see that momentary glimpse of purpose.

“The way I see it, we have two options.” Looking back down to the map, he taps the area underneath his finger. “We can head east half a mile and check out the housing development there, or we can push the final two miles to the prison.”

“Will we get to the prison before dark?” Carol asks, leaning over the map herself.

“If we pick up the pace a bit, we’ll get there in no time.” Rick runs a hand over his beard as he says it, dropping his head from where he had glanced up at the sun.

“Easier said than done these days.” Abraham says, meeting Rick’s gaze as it falls back to him.

“That’s why there’s an option.”

“I say we head for the prison.” Michonne mentions, crouched down across the circle, using her katana to balance herself against the ground. “No point delaying it, we’re gonna go back eventually.”

“Michonne’s right. We go to the prison.” Maggie says, looking at Rick in a way that warrant’s no argument, and everyone else looks confused as to why she’s being so insistent, but Glenn knows Maggie’s thinking this through, thinking that if Daryl’s anywhere back here it would be the only place he’d ever had.

Rick nods, and if anyone in the group has any opposing ideas they’re obviously too exhausted to waste time voicing them.

They reach the outskirts of the prison two hours later and no relaxation or relief is allowed to creep to the surface. They crouch along the treeline, sheltered slightly by the fading light, looking up at the prison and scouring its borders for signs of inhabitants. It looks pretty clear, but long years of deception and false truths had rendered the eyes a fairly flawed judge of safety.

“We’ll go together. We’re stronger in a group, and Judith’s pretty good at giving people pause.” Rick says, handing Judith to Carl and checking the rounds in his colt. He doesn't say that it’s not about giving people pause, not about the shock factor of a baby in the apocalypse. It’s that the last time someone he loved left his side they didn't come back. “Weapons drawn, safety off. Anything happens, I’ll try and reason with them. Failing that, we take this place.”

No one says anything about the irony of the situation, right at this moment, it doesn't seem important.

Rick walks out into the open ground first, making it to the fence before he looks back at the group. They walk to the dilapidated area of the fence, checking around them for threats as they move, that being Walkers or other survivors. Maggie and Glenn keep their eyes alert, looking for any possible sign that Daryl could’ve been here and seeing none.

They edge their way into the prison grounds, still uncertain as of yet, if the place has been claimed by another group, if the interior is still swarmed by walkers. The group congregates at the bottom of the outer field, some considering the fence that still remains fallen, other looking over to the crosses at the edge of the field, and Rick knows earlier losses partially forgotten in the face of new ones are suddenly being recounted in detail.

Rick’s got about 10 meters between him and the group by this point, quiet steps just creeping onto the edge of the yard, so he sees him before any of the others do.

He’s stood with his back to the gate, and Rick’s immediately struck with the wrongness of the picture, the resigned angle of his head, the back that should flutter with white wings and instead lies still in its severity. The blade that Rick should see against his hip burn’s into his own like damnation and the crossbow that hangs to the ground from limp fingers twists a splintered bolt into his heart.

“Daryl.” The utterance sounds foreign on his tongue but the name feels like remembrance. And something in Rick can’t struggle past the panic, that Daryl isn’t even there, that this’ll all be a trick. He can’t see any bites, but the idea that even if Daryl is there, he might not be-

Daryl turns, his eyes lifting to meet with Rick’s slowly. He looks like he’s been thinking exactly the same and the tentative hope in his expression makes Rick’s heart ache.

There’s not a reaction he can remember other than that which is automatic, his legs instinctively carrying him to the thing his mind calls to, the noise so loud that Rick can’t even hear the startled shouts of the others as they call his name.

He barrels into Daryl so fast that they nearly fall to the floor, Daryl only just managing to stumble his way back to stability, too focused on curling his hands into Rick’s hair and burying his face into his neck. Rick tilts his head into Daryl’s hair, panting against his ear and holding him as tightly as he can, scared that if he lets go Daryl might disappear, disintegrate back into his imagination and stay there forever.

“Rick, Rick, Rick.” Daryl sobs, mumbling the words into Rick’s skin, folding himself so closely to Rick’s body, trying to merge them together so that nothing can ever pull them apart again. “Please don’t tell me this is a dream.”

“It’s not Darlin’.” Rick says, tears rolling down his cheeks into Daryl’s hair. “I’m right here, I’m right here.”

“Rick!” It the first time Rick remembers the others, the first time Daryl’s even aware they’re there. They come rushing into the yard, chests heaving and weapons drawn, both falling still as they realize what’s going on.

Daryl looks as if he wants to say something, but his expression crumples into tears before he can manage it and he buries his face into his hands. Rick wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling his head down to his chest and letting him sob into his shirt. He knows that he’s no better, can feel the way his throat is hitching on every breath, but he knows that Daryl needs to hide a little right now, isn't comfortable in showing emotion despite the amount he feels.

The others start to file in around them, tears in many of their own eyes as the pile into the hug, Carl clutching Judith as he moves into the side of them both, letting her move curious hands to the ones Daryl has over his face.

Daryl lowers them at her urging, blinking away the tears that rest on his lashes, tilting his head as it rests against Rick’s collarbone to look at Judith and Carl. He can see the leather vest around Carl’s shoulders, the cord around Judith’s neck, and he gently shrugs off one of Rick’s arms so he can pull them both in for a hug, pressing a kiss to Judith’s head as he does so.

He pulls back eventually, looking around at each member of the group, taking account of the ones he doesn't see as much as the ones he does and Rick can’t get over how beautiful he is, can’t believe all the things he didn't remember about Daryl’s face, can’t remember he’s got him in his arms.

Hell, he’ll never let go of Daryl again.

“Why ya’ll standing here, go get some damn food.” They look so startled by it, and Daryl smiles in a way that looks painfully unpracticed. “Ya know where it’s at.” He motions to the entrance of the prison, and everyone lets loose unbelieving laughs, giving Daryl final pats on the back, final hugs, as they pile their way inside. The original group pulling the newer members with them, talking animatedly about the layout of the prison, what they’d had here, what they can have again, their mood the most jovial it’s been in months.

When it’s just Rick and Daryl left in the yard, Rick more hungry for the man in front of him then the food the others have left for, Daryl turns to face him again. 

Rick leans forward, capturing Daryl’s lips in a fierce kiss. Daryl’s mouth falls open, his groan breathed into Rick’s at the feel of a hand tangling into his hair, the fingers twisting into a fist and pulling his head to the side, getting a better angle for Rick to explore every forgotten inch of Daryl’s mouth with his own. 

Daryl pulls away eventually, his lips red and his hair a mess and holy shit, had Rick missed that.

“Thought I’d never see you again.” Daryl mumbles, his words blocked slightly by the lip he pulls into his mouth.

“You left.” Rick says, not in accusation but in confusion, only just managing to catch Daryl’s face in his hands as he goes to lower his head.

“I didn't want to.” Daryl says, shrugging a shoulder, and looking up at Rick in complete reverence, complete adoration. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” Rick needs to know it, because the feeling of panic when he realized that Daryl had left was nothing in comparison to knowing that Daryl hadn't _told_ him. The twisted months of agony, of thinking over what he’d said and hadn't said, whether it would've made a difference.

“Ya might’ve wanted to come with me.” 

“I _would've_ come with you.” 

“And what about Carl, what about Judith. They deserve a home as much as they deserve to have their Daddy in one piece.” Daryl’s words are heartfelt and might’ve even been logical if they weren't so far from the truth. 

“I wasn't in one piece.” 

Daryl’s eyes are such a crystalline blue, a color Rick couldn't have forgotten no matter their months of separation, and the tears that form in them reflect the colour just as he remembers. Daryl shuts his eyes, shakes his head, and Rick knows that he doesn't believe him, knows that Daryl _can’t_ believe him.

“Open your eyes.” Rick whispers, breathing the word against Daryl’s lips, waiting until he opens them to continue.

“Judith cried every night for two months after you left” Daryl’s eyes drop from Rick’s own, and Rick lowers his own head, forcing the contact again. “I don’t say that to make you feel guilty, I say it because I _need_ you to know how much you were missed.”

“I’m sorry.” Daryl says after a while.

“You don’t have to be sorry for protecting my kids.” Rick says, and Daryl breathes a laugh, Rick echoing one of his own before falling somber. “Just promise me you’ll never leave me again.”

“Promise.” Daryl buries his head into Rick’s neck again, and he’s not crying, but his breathing is deep and unsteady and painful. “Missed you all so much. Thought I’d never…”

“Shh Darlin’, it’s okay, everything’s okay.” It might be a lie tomorrow, but in this moment, in this very second Rick speaks nothing but the truth.

“We’re home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked it! Thanks for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> All my works are now re-uploaded and I thank all of you for sticking with me and continuing to give me support!  
> Thank you all so much!


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